Shuffle
by Kohinyun
Summary: Alone in his cave outside of Hogsmead, Sirius Black plays a game of cards and remembers times past and the first war against Voldemort. Mostly a Maruaders-era fic.
1. A Game of Chance

A/N:  Here's my first idea for a Harry Potter fiction.  It's a history of the Marauders, particularly focusing on James and Sirius.  This is sort of a secondary focus.  I've got all the plot written out, but non of the filler, and it  differs quite a bit from what was revealed in OotP.  This will get worked on, but at a much slower pace than 'House of Black.'  Please bear with me, and I hope you enjoy.

**Shuffle**

**Prologue**

            You're born.  You die.  In between stuff happens.  That's life, always changing, always moving.             

            Like cards in a game of chance.  We fall wherever fate places us, move without control.  Like a gambler.  We play with whatever hand we're dealt and try to make the best of it.

Funny.  Never really thought of myself as a gambler in my younger days.  Don't get me wrong, I won my fair share of cash playing exploding snap until all hours of the night.  Course, usually that was because… well… I cheated.  Don't look so shocked.  What did you expect, that I'd let myself lose?  Sorry, I'm not… I wasn't… that kind of boy.

Things change, though.  Sometimes you think you know where all the cards are, but it turns out someone mixed them all up.  Someone shuffled the cards when you weren't looking and bam.  You're down five galleons.  Sometimes, when you're playing for bigger stakes, it's a hell of a lot worse.  Sometimes, winning is everything.

Turns out, that's usually when the deck is stacked against you.  Once, I wouldn't have believed it.  Now… I dunno.

Hah, here I am talking like an old man.  I guess I am, in experience if not in years (though I bet the kids at Hogwarts would say I've got the years, too).  Azkaban ages you in ways that even charmed wrinkle cream can't touch.  It's in the eyes.  I know Remus sees it, and Dumbledore.  Even Harry, though I try my hardest to hide it from him.  He's just a kid, really, despite everything he's done.  Too many people forget that too easily.

Not much to do here, so I've taken up playing solitaire.  Hermione sent me a deck of Muggle cards by owl once.  Said she was worried exploding snap would scare Buckbeak.  Harry's lucky to have her as a friend.  She's a smart girl, kind of reminds me of Remus in that quiet, studious way.  She also sent a little book on how to play different games, realizing I probably wouldn't know how use a Muggle deck.  Most of them needed two people, and somehow I doubt that Buckbeak's hooves would be up to holding cards.

Solitaire.  A game of chance.  However the cards fall, that decides your game.  I guess in a way, we're all gamblers.

**Chapter 1**

"Sirius Black, is that a book I see you reading?"

Sirius scowled at his long time friend.  "Some of us haven't got all seven years worth of material memorized yet, you know."

Remus just chuckled, dropping down onto the large couch beside the other boy.  "That's a bit of an exageration, isn't it.  I don't really remember all that much."

Sirius just rolled his eyes.  "Oh, sure.  Who else but you would know that nose wiggling charm of yours?  That's got to be the most obscure spell in existence."

"You mean _occular_ velico?_"  Remus snorted.  "Well, it was useful wasn't it?  I mean, if I hadn't made Professor McGonagall's nose twitch so much she didn't notice us, we would have had even more detentions under our belt."_

"I just have to wonder what kind of wizard invents a spell for nose twitching.  At least I know now what kind of poor sod actually researches it."  He snatched Remus' half-heartedly thrown pillow out of mid air and tucked it against the couch's arm.  "And thanks for the pillow, mate.  These cushions were getting a bit hard on the old arse."

"Maybe if you put some meat on those sharp bones of yours, you wouldn't have that problem."  Remus lay down, 'accidently' putting his feet on top of Sirius' book.

Sirius swatted them away.  "You're one to talk, Moony old pal.  I'll have you know that I plan to earn my first million by the time I'm twenty-one, and I'll have seven course meals twice a day from then on.  I'll be as fat as dear old Fudge by the time I'm twenty five!"

"Ah," Remus agreed sagely.  "I'm sure that'll come about."  

"You don't have to be bitter, you know," Sirius scolded.  "I'll be glad to share my hard-earned wealth with the Marauders.  You can have seven course meals too."

Remus held up his hands.  "I was agreeing with you.  N.E.W.T.s making you a bit touchy are they?"

"Touchy my arse." Sirius growled.  "Sod off you wanker."

Remus backed off.  He knew Sirius wasn't really mad, but he knew his friend's short temper.  Hell, he was rather intimate with it, being on the receiving end more than a few times.  Instead of replying, he put his feet back up on the couch, out of Sirius' lap, of course, and closed his eyes.  The fire crackled, its warmth and sound friendly and comforting.

Sirius went back to his book, trying hard to keep his eyes open.  Remus was right, he was a bit touchy from the quickly approaching N.E.W.T.s.  Where had all the time gone?  It seemed like a week ago that he had slipped a few exploding snap cards into Snape's cauldron during their first potions class.  Seven years had just flown by, and now, here he was.  And he hadn't studied.  Ever, it seemed.  He held his head in his hands and groaned at his own stupidity.

Remus opened his eyes at his friend's sound of despair.  "You're not wishing you had studied more, are you?" he asked.

Mutely, Sirius nodded.

Remus gazed in wonderment.  "You really are worried about these tests."

"What was your first bloody clue?" Sirius snapped.

"Well, this way its only…" he checked his watch.  "Two weeks, three days, fourteen hours and some odd minutes of cramming hell.  If you'd started studying before this, it would have been seven years of misery."

"At least I would have passed after those seven years."

Remus shrugged.  "Don't worry about it.  You're a lot better of a wizard than Peter.  If he passes you're sure to.  And I don't think he's even worried about it."

Sirius sighed.  "I suppose you're right."  He closed his book and stood up, stretching.  "Well, come on then.  Let's go get some dinner.  I think James and Peter should be getting to the dining hall soon."

· * * 

Peter, it turned out, was worried about his N.E.W.T.s.  He was pestering James so much over dinner about what he was doing wrong with his weasel-to-slinky transfiguration spell that James finally threatened to dump a bowl of mashed potatoes _and_ gravy over the smaller boy's head if he didn't give him an hour of peace.

"Really, Wormtail," he was saying when Remus and Sirius came to sit with them, "you'd think they were asking you to go up against Voldemort himself instead of picking up a quill and writing down a few answers and doing a few charms."

Peter's face blanched at the mention of You-Know-Who's-You-Know-What, but Remus interrupted him before he could stutter out a reply.

"You too?" he asked, pulling out a chair across from James.  "I swear these boys think that N.E.W.T.s are the end of the world."

"Oh no," James groaned.  "Don't tell me Sirius…"

Remus just nodded gravely.

"Now wait just a minute," Sirius broke in, "I'm not worried.  Who said I was worried."

"You did, actually." Remus reminded him.  "Just a few minutes ago.  In the common room, remember?  Or did someone put a memory charm on you as we walked down the stairs?"

"I really don't know what you're talking about." Sirius winked at Rosemary Anadine as he reached for the shepherds pie.  "I think all that time in the hospital wing has completely fried your brain."

Rosemary, true to form, giggled happily at Sirius' flirting, turning to her friends and whispering excitedly.

"Good god," Peter mock-whispered in James' ear, "he's at it again."

"Maybe you'd better try your repugnase charm on him," James suggested with a wicked grin.  "Bloody hell, Sirius, you don't have to kick so hard."

"If you try anything, _anything on me at all, I'll turn you into cremed custard and eat you for dinner."  Sirius waved said cremed custard around for emphasis, the cup's contents coming dangerously close to sloshing over the sides of the bowl onto Remus' head._

Remus grabbed a hold of the threatening arm.  "Spill that on me and I'll turn _you_ into Severus Snape," he warned.

"You wouldn't dare!" Sirius exclaimed.  "I'd grease you to death with my hair if you did.  That reminds me, did I ever tell you about the time I saw Snivellus cook french fries with his hair grease… it was disgusting, I tell you, absolutely disgusting…"

Remus rolled his eyes.  "Here we go again," he mouthed at the two sitting across from him.

Luckily, they were saved from a long-winded rant on the evils of Severus Snape by Dumbledore himself.  Rising from his seat, gray beard still spotted with the remnants of the shepherd's pie he'd eaten, Dumbledore moved in front of the table and cleared his throat, waiting patiently for silence before he spoke.  Very soon, all eyes were turned to him and all conversation had drawn to a close. 

A great big grin broke out on Dumbledore's face.  "Thank you, thank you all for your attention," he said enthusiastically.  "I have very exciting news.  As you all know, finals are rapidly approaching, and all you seventh years will soon begin your NEWTS."  He had to pause as groans broke out all around the dining hall.

"Thanks for ruining a perfectly good dinner," Peter grumbled under his breath.

Sirius nodded sagely.  "If that's good news than I'm a yellow-nosed paddy-sniffer.  Don't say it, James."

James just grinned and kept his mouth shut.

"Now, we have a wonderful treat for you.  Tomorrow after classes, in this very dining hall, we have many representatives from different wizarding companies coming to give you all a chance to see what kind of lives there are after Hogwarts.  I know that now, at the end of the year, it seems like there is nothing else besides your classes, but there is in fact a life after Hogwarts and this is a great time to see what kind you want to lead.  For you underclass wizards and witches, this is an opportunity to see what interests you and how to use your education here to get there.  And for you seventh years, many of the representatives are here to interview and recruit, so some of you could even be landing jobs."

"Even if we don't pass?" a voice from the Hufflepuff table shouted.

Dumbledore smiled even broader.  "I have no doubt that all of you will do exceedingly well.  You are an excellent group of academics… at least, I hope you are.  I might be confusing you with my Algerian Algebrarian Chimpanzees."  He scratched his head vacantly before continuing.  "Well, anyhow, I hope to see you all here tomorrow after classes and please, be on your best behavior while these representatives are here.  That means, of course, no dungbombs in the halls and no impassable charms on the toilet seats.  Thank you."

"Was he looking at us when he said that," Peter asked as Dumbledore returned to his chair.  

"Of course he was," James exclaimed.  "He knows that was us, even if he can't prove it."

"Oh, yes, we are good, aren't we," Sirius said proudly.  "I wish I could have seen the look on Ms. Buttleburr's face when she tried to use the toilet."   

"You know, that charm is supposed to be used as a shield against bodily harm from weapons."

"Oh, Moony, it's got so many other more practical applications," James argued.

"Yeah," Sirius agreed, "like toilet seats and doorways… besides, when was the last time an ogre came out you with a mace?"

"Last week.  Actually, it was Daisy Brixton with a Magical History textbook, but she looks like an ogre.  I just thought I should point out to you the real reason for the spell.  I don't think you'd get credit on the NEWTS if you answered 'the impassable charm is best known for its use in blocking toilets.'"

"I'd bet on points for creativity," James said, reaching across Peter for a roll.  "Aw, bloody hell, I was going to eat that."  The rolls, along with the rest of dinner, had apparently decided that meal-time was over and disappeared as quickly as they had come.  They were replaced, however, by row upon row of pie and cake and pudding.  James forgot about his lost roll soon enough, as he dug with relish into a strawberry rhubarb pie.  

Sirius, Remus had noted, had hardly touched his dinner.  Subtly, so as not to attract their friend's attention, he poked Sirius in the side with his fork.  

"Sod it, Remus, do I look like a bloody carrot to you?"  Sirius roared.  Of course, Remus should have known better than to try subtlety with Sirius.  

Luckily, James and Peter seemed to be engaged with their pies at the moment.  Or something more sinister, which Remus didn't even want to consider.  Whatever absorbed their attention, Remus was glad for it.  "You're not eating," he pointed out.  

Sirius shrugged.  "I'm _worried_ about these bloody N.E.W.T.s, you know."  His voice was only a whisper and he looked around worriedly as he said it.  "You won't tell anyone, will you?I can't have it get out that I, Sirius Black, am worried about something related to school."

Remus couldn't help but laugh.  "Don't worry.  I won't tell.  But you know, I hear fish helps stimulate the brain.  That and lots of sugar and caffeine.  You should try it."

Sirius smiled back, and it looked a lot less forced than it had before.  "All right, all right, I bow to your superior knowledge, Moony.  Stop worrying."  He looked over the table and picked up a slice of bread pudding, digging into it with relish.

Remus smiled, looking at his own slice of pie with relish.  Food was something he usually didn't pay much attention to, but, quite frankly, Hogwart's feasts were _good._  Not to mention they were more food than he usually saw in a month when at home.  Everything would be alright.  He had wonderful friends, both smart and practical, who despite their rather flighty nature would allow no harm to come upon the Marauders.  He could relax with the knowledge that whatever the future, whatever the civil wizarding war, could bring, the Marauders would weather it and would emerge whole.  This was the truth, he felt it in his heart, and the wolf inside him howled in agreement.

The pie was delicious as he bit into it…


	2. It Started in the Broom Closet

**Shuffle**  
**Chapter 2**  
**It Started in the Broom Closet**

The funny thing about games of chance is that you can't control what's going to happen.

Take this game for example. Buckbeak looks at me funny when I start cursing at the cards, but what does he know about gambling anyway? Bloody noble creatures, those hippogriffs are. Never thought one would be keeping a Marauder company when I first learned about them in Care of Magical Creatures class. Goes to show everything's relative, or some post-modern bull shit like that.

Padfoot was once picked up by a nihilist on the outskirts of Liverpool, on his frantic flight from Azkaban. Don't really remember it much, but I know I'd have run away if I'd had the strength at the time. Like some strange dream, he kept saying "I'm a nihilist. I believe in nothing" over and over. I stayed a while because he handed out tasty scraps. Still, I got out of there as fast as I could. There's something about a man who believes in nothing that makes you feel empty inside. Even dementors can offer you despair.

I frown at the cards in front of me. If only I could move my jack of spades I could get to my ace of hearts and really get the game started. I've got the king of clubs free, but no red queen.

I move a few other things around, hoping something will come up. I really want to win this time. I've had a delicious chocolate frog hidden away in the back corner of my little cave for two weeks now, another gift from Hermione, and as soon as I win at this horrible muggle game, I'm going to eat it. I don't know how much longer I can be patient. A man's willpower only goes so far until his stomach takes over.

* * *

The NEWTS, as it turned out, were the least of the Marauder's worries. Despite Peter's whining and Sirius' grumping, and amid James' impatient sighs and Remus' calm explanations, the NEWTS grew closer and closer each day. Unfortunately, as the days grew shorter, so did tempers and so the morning before the Potions NEWT, the first one they'd sit, the Marauders found themselves quite unexpectedly huddling underneath their single invisibility cloak crammed inside a small broom closet. They managed to stay quiet for quite some time, ears straining to catch any movement out in the halls, but finally Sirius couldn't take it anymore.

"Mister Mooney, that bloody sharp elbow of yours has been in my side for the last half hour," he grouched, pushing his friend, which started a chain reaction that ended in a loud crash as half the buckets and most of the brooms landed on their heads.

James got up with the feathers of a duster stuck in his unruly hair and a look of pure annoyance on his face. "Are you trying to get us found out, Mister Padfoot?" he demanded.

Sirius looked just as annoyed as he stood. "Certainly not anymore than you are. Whatever happened to inside voices?" he asked, looking ready for some action. He was not a fan of tight spaces and tended to become a bit unpredictable when stuck in them for long periods of time.

James snorted. "Inside voices left with the great bloody racket you just made. Why don't we take this outside if you're so ready to move."

Peter stood watching the two, his mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. He looked to Remus as though he wanted to defend James, but was a little frightened of the wild look in Sirius' eyes. Remus sighed and stepped in between his two friends about to come to blows.

"Stop it," he ordered. "You're both being huge gits. Nobody came to check out the noise, so we're obviously not going to get caught in here. Sirius, you could've asked me to move my elbow before pushing. James, Sirius didn't mean to knock down all this junk. Now let's leave and get back to the Gryffindor hall before the Slytherins or the professors catch us here."

At the word 'Slytherin' all the tension left the air as the marauders remembered who really held the blame for this situation. Sirius left first, wrenching open the door while muttering about the 'mother-loving Slytherin gits' under his breath as he marched out of the closet. James went next, saying something to Peter about 'giving them a taste of their own medicine' while Peter followed, cheering him on at random intervals. Remus went last, shutting the door behind him, and was about to tell them to keep it down, they weren't out of trouble yet when he walked into Peter who had stopped short before him.

"Wha-?" he started to ask, before a body flew into him. He landed hard, the air squeezed out of him, with James' voice in his ear. "Stay still," James whispered, and was gone. Angry that his friend thought he needed protecting when there was still three days till the full moon, Remus rolled over, coughing, and sat up. He knew immediately why James had told him to stay where he was.

Peter stood in front of him, wand extended, his arm trembling as he fought to hold back a huge cloud of liquid silver. Remus could sense the magic surrounding the silver mass, in particular, he could sense the particular tracking spell that aligned itself to werewolves. It made his nose itch and he had to fight the urge to sneeze. Peter seemed as though he barely had control of the silver, and any move on Remus' part would send the thing careening off in another direction in its attempts to reach him. He doubted Peter would have the skill to capture it a second time. For a wizard of Peter's skill, it was amazing he had gotten it once.

A brief look around revealed to Remus why neither James nor Sirius were at Peter's side. In addition to the silver missile, someone had unleashed a great number of boggarts and the creatures were attacking from both sides. Sirus was behind Peter battling at least twelve images of his screaming mother, and Remus could hear James behind him casting the Ridikkulus charm over and over. Whatever he was fighting wailed again and again, setting Remus' hair on end.

Remus stayed still as Peter's arm trembled more and more, yet his friend never let go of the giant glob of silver. An eternity passed with the two of them frozen like that, and just as Remus was sure that Peter's control was finally going to waver there was a final, triumphant shout of 'ridikkulus' from behind them both and the sound of footsteps. James ran up beside Peter, aimed his own wand, and shouted "prester immobilis." Peter's arm collapsed limply against his side and he stood breathing hard, while James held the silver at bay.

Sirius ran up moments later, a rather hassled look on his face. "It's hard to make anything about that horrible woman funny," he muttered, then took a glance at the silver mass. He flicked his wand, said "perdamentia", and the silver glob solidified into an orb. Sirius' eyes narrowed in anger as he looked at the metal ball floating in front of him. "Slytherins," he growled. "They think they can one up us? They'll pay."

"Sirius," Remus called quietly when his friend looked as though he would march down to the Slytherin dungeon and duel every student down there single handedly. "Wait."

Sirius whirled around, his anger not the least bit deterred. "What, Mooney? They made this for you! A trap to catch a werewolf. Don't tell me you can sit back and just let them do this to you!"

Remus nodded. "I can and I will," he said calmly, "and you will too. Just think what they'll say if you go storming off to my defense."

Sirius found no humor from Remus' attempt to lighten the mood. It was James who finally broke the tension. As they had talked, a light sweat had appeared on his face. Apparently holding the silver orb was not as easy as he made it appear. "A little help here, mates," he said. "The tracking spell's still on the silver. As soon as I let it go it'll fly straight into Remus and Peter didn't go to all that trouble to see that happen because we're a bunch of old men who like to talk."

Peter beamed at the praise and reenergized quickly, offering several suggestions of how they might remove the spell, none of which seemed particularly practical but since he had just saved Remus' life as Sirius and James were busy with the boggarts, no one really minded much. Finally, with a totaralius extralius spell, Remus himself disbanded the spell and the silver orb dropped loosely from James' control. James gave a sigh of relief, rubbing his wand arm after the strain of holding the orb.

Once the orb had fallen limp at their feet, Sirius picked it up and looked at it with narrowed eyes. "Someone went to a lot of trouble to take you down, Moony," he said quietly. "Not many people know about you. In fact, I can think of only one Slytherin who would know exactly how dangerous silver could be to us."

Remus was about to protest when James stepped forward. "And just whose fault is that?" he asked.

Peter stepped up behind him. "Yeah, whose fault?" he echoed. "There's only one person here who's ever let the Marauder's secret slip."

Sirius hurled the orb at the wall with such force that the perdamentia spell shattered, sending pieces of silver splattering across the room with a great crash. "Keep your parrot on your shoulder where it belongs, James," he growled. "And don't take the high and mighty route with me. You're no better than I am and you know it."

James held Peter back when it seemed the smaller boy might try to defend his honor. He answered Sirius himself. "You're no better than the Slytherins," he told his friend. "Trouncing around with the Black fortune to back you up whenever you go wrong. And you've certainly shown what honor and loyalty mean to you. How'd you ever get into Gryffindor?"

Sirius turned and walked stiffly down the hall, silently. It was his silence that worried Remus the most, his silence that made him move after his friend, his betrayer, to call his name. "Sirius, wait!"

Sirius stopped but did not turn around. His shoulders slumped, unusual for him, who was usually so arrogant. When he didn't speak, Remus began, searching for words.

"D-don't listen to him." Lame, Mooney, was all Remus could think. What a horrible way to end this conflict.

Sirius, apparently, thought so too. "Don't tell me what to do," he told Remus coldly. "You'd better go to Madam Pomfrey and get some balm for your arm. Sorry about that. The famous Black temper and all. You can't trust a Black, you know."

As he disappeared around the corner, Remus finally looked down to the burning on his arm. A glob of silver clung there, likely splattered from the silver orb shattered in Sirius' fit of frustration, forgotten in the face of his friends' argument. Remus hated when his friends fought, especially over him, but, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop it, he went along quietly with James to the infirmary where Madam Pomfrey treated his injury, clucking her tongue at him and his silly ways of finding silver in the strangest places. All the while, however, his thoughts remained fixed on his friends' argument, the likes of which was becoming more and more common every day. He silently hoped it wasn't something permanent, yet had a feeling that a wedge had been driven between James and Sirius that would keep them at arms length indefinitely. 

TBC… 


	3. The Potions NEWT

**Disclaimer:** I in no way, shape, or form own _Harry Potter, _the story, or the characters within. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling and various publishing companies. The only thing I own is the idea for this story, and I'm not making any money off of it so it's not much to brag about.

**Update: **June 15, 2005. Rearranged and added prologues to chapters 3 and 4. Few minor editing tweaks.

**Chapter 3  
The Potions N.E.W.T.**

_I read somewhere once upon a time that Muggles used playing cards like these to tell the future. Don't think we ever studied that one in Divination class, but then I never really studied much of anything in Divination._

_Sometimes, though, I wish…_

_But it's too late for wishes now, isn't it. _

_You know, there was a time I didn't believe in fate. There was a time I thought whatever fate we made was our own, that we were masters of our own destiny and all that bull. I wish I could still think that. It's just, you know, too much has happened. How can I believe in free will when I've tried my hardest and done my best and still been screwed at every turn? How am I supposed to think the world _isn't_ out to steamroll over one Sirius Black?_

_Me? Bitter? Maybe a little. Let's be realistic here._

_Damn it, the cards are getting blurry. I'm no stranger to tears. You don't survive twelve years in Azkaban and never know what it's like to sob until your throat is raw and there's nothing left but an empty pit in your stomach. But this isn't the place. All this soul searching is going to my head, making me dwell on things I should have buried long ago. Maybe I should just keep playing the game. Maybe these cards will tell me something I don't know. Maybe, just maybe, I'll finally win._

* * *

It is often said that misery loves company, and so the Marauders could not stay divided as long as NEWTs stood as a common obstacle.

James heard the final call and the clatter of quills and parchment flying through the air as he leaned against the wall outside the common room waiting for his friends. He'd finished up the potions NEWT with a few minutes to spare, but had paused outside the doors to wait for the others. Besides, Lily was just around the corner waiting for her own friends, and even though he didn't dare approach her and her rather volatile temper during the NEWT period, he was happy to just know she was there.

The hall suddenly filled with voices as the test-takers began to file out of the common room, and James heard quite a number of complaints over the difficulty of the exam. Grumbling at the wizard who'd cursed all Potters to be short, James stood on tiptoes and strained to see over the crowd, looking for Sirius' dark head above the rest of the seventh years. Sirius caught sight of him and waved, cutting through the crowd to where James stood against the wall.

"Devil of a test," Sirius remarked when he was within earshot. "Can't believe you got done so quickly." Apparently, the previous day's fight was forgotten, as Sirius leaned close and whispered with a sly smile, "wouldn't have anything to do with a certain Ms. Evans handing in her paper twenty minutes early, would it?"

James whacked him on the back of the head in response. "Don't be ridiculous, Padfoot. It's got nothing to do with that. There were so many defensive potions on that exam, I'd be surprised if any Slytherin passed. It was practically a DADA exam."

Sirius looked incredulous. "Practically a DADA exam?" he parroted. "You expect me to buy that? I'm ashamed, Prongs, that you'd find me so foolish."

"Oh, don't worry, we all find you foolish." Remus had approached unnoticed, and grinned at Sirius when the other spun around to face him. "Well, there's one NEWT down. And we all know James aced it. How'd you do, Padfoot?"

Sirius shrugged. "All right, I suppose. Though Mother would've pitched a fit over the questions they asked. 'Potions is the art of pure-bloods' she'd always say, and that was as muggle friendly a portions test as any we've ever taken. Seems like someone at Hogwarts has got some anti-Voldemort agenda"

Peter, who had also approached unnoticed, squeaked at the name. "D-don't say that!" he stammered, glancing around worriedly. "S-some people might not have realized it, you know, and y-you don't want them f-finding out. Just think what could happen if You-Know-Who came to Hogwarts."

James laughed shortly. "Don't be ridiculous, Wormtail. How could Voldemort get in here? This is Hogwarts, and Dumbledore is more powerful than Voldemort could ever be."

Peter nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, of course. You-Know-Who can't get in here, but still…"

"Peter, you worry too much," Sirius interrupted, though he seemed distracted. James traced his gaze and found him looking at Severus Snape. "Greasy git," Sirius muttered to his friends. "Look at him. Probably thinks he's aced the potions NEWT. If he's got it in the bag, it's sure enough not all good spells."

The greasy git in question was slinking down the hall, muttering to himself as he walked with his nose stuck in a book. Looking closer, James realized Sirius was right; there were none of the furtive glances, none of the nervous tension that always surrounded him, replaced, for the time being, with a calm confidence that James found quite irksome. Severus Snape, blight to Hogwarts and all Houses, should not look confident. James sighed, casting a glance towards the end of the hall from where he could hear Lily's laughter as she talked with her friends. He really, really wanted to remind Severus of his place, he had promised Lily he'd leave the wanker alone for NEWTS time. She wouldn't talk to him for a week if he broke it, after all.

James realized how lost in his own thoughts he had been when he jumped at Remus' voice, sounding firmer than was its usual want. "Let it be," the werewolf was nearly growling, a firm grip of Sirius' arm the only thing holding the other back. "The last thing you need in the middle of N.E.W.T.s is another detention."

Sirius glared, but gave in, though he didn't look at all happy about it. He continued to sneer at Severus as the others began to discuss the exam.

"So what can you use to replace baby's blood if you don't want to commit human sacrifice?" Peter asked. "I think I completely botched it."

Remus frowned thoughtfully. "That one was hard, wasn't it?" he replied. "I don't think there's anything more potent than baby's blood if you're doing a regeneration potion of any sort, but I wrote that you could use cow milk and ground unicorn horn in a pinch. Sort of seems to defeat the point of keeping the potion pure, though, doesn't it, which is what the question seemed to be going for."

A nasally voice interrupted what James had been about to say. "Pure?" it asked. "Why should something like you worry about purity when _you're_ going to be the one who eats a baby some day?'

James spun around, surprised that Snape had dared approached them. _Calm,_ he reminded himself, taking a deep breath. _Remember Hogsmead. Remember Lily._ He looked over towards Sirius and saw that the Slytherin's approach had been no surprise to his friend. Sirius had been tracking Snape the entire time.

Remus flinched, Snape's words touching a nerve. Sirius was quick to jump to his defense.

"At least if he eats a baby, it'll be involuntary, you Death Eater trash!" he yelled, loud enough that most heads in the room turned their way. Remus looked as though he wished he could shrink into his robes, while Sirius and Snape glared at each other, incensed.

"If anyone's Death Eater trash around here, it isn't me." Snape spoke calmly and quietly, though in the hush that had overtaken the hallway, everyone could hear. "Or should I remind you who's the pureblood here and who's not?"

James wasn't sure if it was him or Sirius who hit Snape first, but the Slytherin was down in a second, a hand clutching at his bloody nose as the two boys advanced on him. James was distantly aware of Remus grabbing at his arm, pleading for them to stop, and of Peter's cheers in the background. What caught his attention, however, was how he was suddenly unable to move, try as he might to continue pummeling Snivelus Snape. Judging from the curses he could hear to the right, Sirius had found himself in exactly the same situation.

"Fighting in the halls are we? We do realize that this is a fully punishable breach of school rules, don't we?" Professor Dainspore, the young, bespeckled divination teacher whom all, without question, hated for his anal retentiveness and the sheer joy he seemed to get from punishing students, approached them. He gave a high pitched giggle, something more fitting for a giddy third year girl than the twenty-something divination professor whose gray hair was already showing. "I think I see some detention in the future." He flicked his wand and suddenly the invisible hand holding James in place disappeared and the boy straitened to face the young professor. Sirius, who had been fighting the spell, crashed to the floor with a startled curse.

Dainspore peered down at him through his narrow spectacles, eyebrows raised, before beginning to count off on his fingers. "Let's see now, fighting in the halls, that's four days detention each. Accusing each other of being Death Eaters, another two. Disturbing the peace, that's one more day. So a week of detention for each of you. Oh yes, and 100 points from Gryffindore and 25 from Slytherin. I'll be seeing the five of you this afternoon."

"F-five of us?" Peter squeaked once the professor had moved on. "I didn't do anything."

Remus just sighed. "Will you ever learn to keep your mouth shut?" he asked Sirius wearily.

Sirius just glared, a dangerous look in his eyes. Remus sighed again. "I'm not accusing you, you know," he said, a little sharper than he intended. "So you can stop looking at me like that. It would just be nice if you'd learn to keep your mouth shut every once in a while."

Whatever Sirius might have said in response, and judging by the expression on his face it wouldn't have been pleasant, was cut off by a shrill, feminine voice full of anger. Both boys turned to see James cowering before Lily, a look of pure embarrassment on his face as his girlfriend let the entire seventh year know how she felt about James' behavior. Needless to say, she was not happy.

"You promised," she yelled, and James seemed to shrink before her. "You swore right on that you wouldn't pick fights with him anymore! And look what you do! Not one day goes by and you've got detention because you couldn't stop yourself from picking on him. There's no way you'll get me to go with you to Hogsmede, James Potter, and I'll certainly not be seeing you for a good week!" With a flick of her red hair, she was off trouncing down the hall, nose in the air. The other Griffindor girls flocked around her, sniffing in James' direction as they too disappeared around the corner.

James mussed up his hair, staring after her. "What's her problem," he mused nonchalantly, though there was a tightness about his eyes that belayed his worry. He shrugged. "Silly girls. How are we supposed to know what's going through their heads? What do you want to do before detention?" he asked, turning back to his friends.

"Put a Frogbomb in Dainspore's office, that's what," Sirius growled, looking quite serious. The others ignored him.

Peter tugged on James' sleeve. "Shouldn't you go after her?" he asked, pointing to where Lily had disappeared around the corner. "She might still go to Hogsmede with you if you ask her nice enough."

James gave a sharp, barking laugh that seemed like it should rather have come from Sirius. "If I beg her, you mean." James shook his head. "No, better to just let her be. She'll come back when she's good and ready for more."

"You think she really wants more?" Remus asked, looking skeptical.

James whacked him on the head. "Enough with your smart mouth. Of course she wants more. Who wouldn't?"

"Getting back to the subject of Frogbombs," Sirius interrupted, apparently still caught up in revenge on Dainspore.

Remus hushed him with a nod of the head, gesturing over Sirius' shoulder. "Be quiet," he hissed. "He's coming back. Don't get us any more detentions."

Sirius glared, and Remus was quite sure he was about to start off on how it hadn't been his fault they'd gotten detention. Again. And Remus was about to tell him to keep quite. Again. But unexpectedly, no protests came out of Sirius' mouth. As Dainspore came up to them, Sirius and Remus both found themselves at a loss for words. Their teacher looked off into the distance, eyes glazed, at some far off point down the hall that appeared no different to them than any other part of the corridore. Dainspore walked slowly up to the quiet group, and as he moved through the crowd of students all chattering on about the N.E.W.T.s, the hall gradually got quieter and quieter. With all eyes focused on him, Dainspore walked up to the Marauders and gazed at them all for a long moment with unblinking eyes.

Sirius was the first to break the silence. "Um, hello," he ventured, waving a hand in front of Dainspore's face. "Everything all right?"

"Stop it!" Peter ordered, grabbing Sirius' hand midair. "Don't get us in anymore trouble. Sorry, sir."

Dainspore didn't answer, simply stared at them with the same unblinking gaze. Remus was reminded uncomfortably of a snake scenting its prey.

"Are you all right, sir?" James asked, stepping forward. "You seem rather out of it, Professor."

Again, Dainspore remained silent. "Maybe it's some sort of seizure. Or brainwashing spell," Remus guessed, looking curiously at the divination teacher.

As soon as Remus had finished speaking, Dainspore began to talk in a low, monotonous voice that sounded nothing like his usual, slightly manical lisp. "Three times defeated, the Dark Lord will laugh. One of your own will live to betray you. Pure blood shall be spilt, an innocent lost, and the eye of the storm crosses our palms."

The entire hall came to a hush as Dainspore began shrieking, pointing wildly at the four boys standing before him as he did so, eyes wild and foam flying from his mouth. "Victim, Innocent, Dark-spawn, Betrayer!" He chanted the same words over and over again, his gestures growing wilder and his shouting turned more and more into gibberish as he did so, until it seemed he could last no longer.

James stepped forward to catch the thin professor as his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped sideways, as though he were a puppet whose strings had been cut. As James eased his professor to the ground, those blue eyes shot open. There was none of the previous madness in them as he looked right at James and whispered in a voice almost too low to hear, "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, James Potter."

"What?" James asked, but the professor's eyes had slipped shut. James shook him, calling his name, but there was no response. There was a rush of noise behind him as Dumbledore and McGonagall ran up behind him.

McGonagall took one look at Dainspore, pale and still on the floor beside James, and ran for the nurse. Dumbledore eyes James and his friends critically. "What happened?" he demanded, with none of his usual good humor.

The question prompted chaos, as everyone rushed to tell the headmaster how the divination professor had come to be laying unconscious on the floor. However, after a few moments Dumbledore's roar for quiet was heard above all the voices.

"Thank you," he said, watching as McGonagall returned with the nurse, who together lifted Dainspore into the air and floated him off down the cooridore as quickly as possible. "Now," Dumbeldore said, turning to the students. "I want everyone but James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter to return to their halls and their studying and I do not want to hear of any false rumors started by this incident. I'll make an official report at supper tonight." As soon as he had shooed the lingering students out of the hallway, the authoritative manner disappeared.

"Now then," he said, turning back to the Marauders, "can I interest you in some Everyflavor Beans in my office?" It wasn't an offer so much as a command.

* * *

Several hours later, three rather subdued boys and one overly hyperactive boy stepped out of the portrait that led to Dumbledore's office.

Peter spoke a mile a minute, practically bouncing with each step. "A real prophecy!" he was saying. "Can you believe it? The headmaster said that was a real prophecy, about us! That means we'll be important, doesn't it? Isn't it exciting?"

Remus sighed. "Did you hear what he said? Someone will be betrayed and it'll help Voldemort. And one of us is the betrayer. That's not something to get excited about."

Peter shrugged. "Why not?" he asked. "He said something about pure-blood, didn't he? That means it won't be us since we're not pure blood. It's one of them." He waved a hand towards Sirius and James who walked ahead of them.

"Shut up," Sirius growled, whirling around, and Peter did because he was a little scared of his friend when he got that look sort of look about him. "What does that bloody old git know, anyway? If it's even a real prophecy, it doesn't have to be about us. We just happened to be standing there. But like that old phony would actually be right. Divination is bollux."

Remus seemed to like that and nodded his agreement, and Peter, although he looked rather unexcited by the idea, agreed it might not be a prophecy about them.

"So what about it, James?" Sirius asked, nudging his friend with his elbow. "It's not necessarily about us, right? So stop looking so glum."

James shook his head. "No, it is about us," he corrected quietly.

Sirius stopped short, eyes narrowed. "Don't be daft, James," he scolded glibly, though there was a hint of desperation in his voice. "There's no way you can know that."

James didn't turn around, but spoke with head bowed to the boys behind him. "He said my name," he admitted.

Sirius had nothing to say to that, so Remus stepped forward. "When you caught him?" he asked. James nodded. "Did he say anything else?"

_Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, James Potter._ James shook his head. "No," he replied. "Just that. Just my name."

"Well, maybe he was just waking up and was surprised. Maybe he said your name because you caught him. Maybe he was going to give you another detention for casting a spell on him or something." The desperation was back in Sirius' voice now.

"No!" James shouted, sharper than he intended, cutting Sirius off. "It was a part of the prophecy. I know, so don't question it, okay. Let's just go back to Gryffindor Tower."

"I don't want to go back yet," Remus said. "Everyone's going to be whispering and staring and I don't want to deal with it. I'll see you at supper." He took off down the hall in the opposite direction, and the others watched him go.

"Maybe he's got the right idea," James mused.

"Let's just go," Sirius said, grabbing James by the arm and pulling him along. "Everyone knows divination is the single most useless class at Hogwarts and Dainspore the single most useless teacher unless you're out for as many detentions as you can get."

The two walked silently back to their hall, Peter following along behind, ignoring the little feeling in his stomach that told him Remus was right, this was a Bad Thing and that he shouldn't be so excited about it. But at the same time, a prophecy had been told, a prophecy about him and his friends. A prophecy that said they would be important in the battle against You-Know-Who. A prophecy that gave him hope that he wouldn't always have to stand in the shadows and watch his friends do great things he could never hope to achieve.

He bit his lip so his friends wouldn't see his smile.

TBC…

* * *

A/N: Whew...I've been holding onto that for months now, just waiting to edit it. Sorry it's been so long, but I've been SO busy lately...Would anyone be interested in signing a petition to make 30 hour days? One more chapter, and what was originally planned as the 1st chapter will be complete. Hopefully, that chapter won't take me 2 months, but seeing as I'm writing a thesis right now, it just might. You're forewarned. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed and I hope you enjoyed!  
--Kohinyun 


	4. A Close Call

**Disclaimer: **Cuz everyone's doing it… J.K. Rowling and various publishers own the rights to _Harry Potter_ and the characters within. I'm not making any money off of this. You could try to sue, but you have to find me first!

**Chapter 4**

**A Close Call**

I never was a patient boy. I'm definitely not a patient man. So why am I sitting here playing this game?

I can't say, either. Guess it's another mark Azkaban left on my psyche. I'm not a patient man, but I know how to bide my time. Know how to wait until the halls are empty and the silence is so loud there's no way I can break it; know how to sit still until it's time to move and then run and bite and shred…dementer flesh tastes like death…and run again.

And if you haven't realized I was out of my head by now, there's your final clue.

So I sit and bide my time and play these cards until it's time for me to act, until I can run to Harry's side in a blaze of glory, and, if I'm lucky, die in one too. What do I have to offer the boy besides my life for his?

Well, cheery note, that. These cards are better than my memories, so I'll play the game patiently and pretend I'm not the same foolish boy anymore. Pretend I never was that boy.

* * *

Sirius had thought that the potions NEWT would be the worst of his worries. Although he'd been nervous about all of them, something he'd hotly deny if asked by anyone other than Remus, he'd been telling himself in the back of his mind that if he could just get through potions, the rest would fall into place.

Unfortunately, this was not the case. Though loathe to admit it, Sirius couldn't quite convince himself to pass off Dainspore's strange behavior as some sort of prank or strange fit, no matter how much he wanted to. As a result, valuable library time was spent flipping distractedly through the books of prophecy Peter had brought down from the shelves to study for his own divination exam.

"Don't you have transfiguration tomorrow?" Peter finally asked, tired of stealing his study books back from his friend. "Why are you so interested, anyway? I thought you said divination was all bollocks."

Sirius just shrugged, not wanting to admit the truth. That Dainspore's crazy rantings had gotten to him. With one last glance, he closed Peter's book on the chapter about fraudulent divination and shoved it at the other boy. Sighing, he returned to his own studies. Tranfiguration was too easy; he skimmed through the conclusion of _Advanced Molecular Rearrangement_ in case of an essay question and then picked up _Overviews of Elementary Numerological Diagrams_ with a grimace. Several hours passed in relative silence, until the magical candles began to flicker and Miss Pomperdine approached their table and looked at them over the heavy rim of her glasses and told them library hours were over.

Peter complained about how vague an art divination was as they made their way back to Gryffindor tower. "Really, how can they test us on something that half the books say is fake, and the other half skirt around so vaguely they might as well be instructions for baking biscuits." Peter went into a rant about how much random tossing of ingredients into various chalices of silver or freshly-picked gourds was necessary in divination, and how incredibly unreliable the results of such experiments were. It involved much gesturing and complaining about Dainspore in general so Sirius tuned it out for the most part, adding the occasional comment or grunt at the appropriate places.

It was when Peter began talking about some sort of secret prophecy chamber that Sirius started to pay attention. "Hold up, say that again."

Peter paused mid-sentence. "W-what again?"

"That bit about the room in the Ministry of Secrets. You mean the government takes it seriously?"

Peter seemed a little startled to have the full intensity of one Concentrated Sirius focused on him. He stuttered a little before finding his voice. "It…it's just rumors. Or hearsay. None of the serious divination texts talk about it. Most of the popular texts include it, but only as a brief mention. And even that's so vague it could be anything. I mean, one says it's a huge vault full of ancient scrolls, but another claims it's a chamber that contains the lost Greek Oracle. There's no fact behind it."

"But still, if a lot of books talk about it…" Sirius thought aloud, trailing off mid-sentence. The silence stretched a moment too long and Peter was about to open his mouth to say something reassuring that would wipe the slightly worried look off the other boy's face when Sirius shook his head and grinned a wide grin.

"You're trying to get me all worked up about Dainspore's weird act, aren't you?" he said, poking Peter's arm accusingly. "Trying to get me to buy into all that rubbish. Almost worked, too. Good one, mate."

"Um, yeah," Peter agreed. "Can't fool you."

"But you keep on trying," Sirius said, messing Peter's hair. "That's the marauder spirit! C'mon, we better get back before lights out or Remus won't let us look at his notes."

Peter sighed as Sirius rounded a corner. Sometimes, it was better to let the other boy think what he wanted. Better than an angry Sirius, and definitely better than a scared one. Glancing at _Divination in Politics_ as if to make sure he still held it in his hands, Peter sped up to keep pace with his friend.

* * *

Lying awake in bed that night, Sirius listened to the noises of sleep around him. James' occasional muttering, Remus' heavy breaths, Peter's snoring. He wished he could fall asleep as easily as they had, could forget about the NEWTs and Dainspore's weird behavior and the way Annie Braxton had been looking at him from across the table at lunch because he really, really needed to be thinking about his studies at the moment.

His brain, on the other hand, had other ideas. He had listened as his friends' breaths deepened into sleep, heard the crickets grow silent outside Gryffindor Tower and watched the moonlight move along the dorm floor until it disappeared with the setting moon. And he hadn't had one useful thought about Transfiguration the entire time.

He rolled over in bed with a heavy sigh, hoping this time he could find a way to make himself comfortable. He lay with his eyes closed, willing his breathing into patterns of sleep for what seemed like hours to no avail. So he opened his eyes and looked at the clock; 2:27. Two minutes since he'd last checked. Bloody hell.

The problem was Dainspore. Every time he started to drift off, his mind would work its way back to the man's blank stare, his unnatural voice, and the words he'd spoken. Not to mention the utter conviction in James' voice as he said he believed the prophecy. That, more than anything else, worried Sirius. James was, after all, a staunch supporter of the Divination is Rubbish Society. So why would James think that what Dainspore said could be true? What could the teacher have said to James that would make him believe something as completely off the wall as a prophecy could be even remotely true? Because something Dainspore had said had definitely worried James. But James didn't believe in prophecy or anything of the sort. So why would James think that what Dainspore said could be true?

Frustrated, Sirius sat up in bed and looked around the room. If he didn't do something about his spiraling thoughts there was no way he would get any sleep tonight. Even though tomorrow's exam was transfiguration, and Sirius was pretty sure he could do the exam with his wand hand tied behind his back, he really, really didn't want to risk it. Not if it also meant risking his chance at entering Auror training with James. Not to mention that Wednesday's examination was Magical Number Theory and he would definitely be staying late hours in the library to study for that one.

He shook his head to get his mind back on track and spotted Peter's divination books piled up haphazardly on the floor beside the boy's bed. Well, there was one way to convince himself once and for all that Dainspore's words had no meaning. Or at least give himself enough peace of mind to get a few hours sleep before examinations began again. Picking up his wand and muttering a silencing charm as quietly as he could, he slipped out from under his covers and tiptoed his way to Peter's bedside. He called up a light from the tip of his wand and reached down to read the titles.

"Why don't you make up your own?" Sirius froze when Peter spoke, cursing himself silently for being a fool, heart beating wildly in his chest. He hadn't even noticed Peter's snores had stopped.

He dared to take a breath again when Peter muttered something about bread pudding and his nightly racket resumed. Moving quickly, Sirius sifted through the books, barely taking the time to glance at the titles. Peter had said the popular books mentioned the Ministry of Magic room, so Sirius settled on _England's Love Affair with Divination_ and hurried back to his own bed.

Just as he'd expected, it was a load of rubbish. He flipped through the first chapter on tarot and its various adaptations and their effect on the politics with the third and fourth crusades. He tried reading the chapter on persecution of alleged divinators in greater detail, but found himself starting to drift off about half way through. Instead, he skipped forward to the formation of the ministry of magic and several rearrangements of various departments within the divination section in relation to popular practices in current fortune telling technique and the consequential plots and intrigues that attempted to rearrange important celestial….

* * *

It was strangely quiet in the dorm. There was none of the usual morning ruckus; no alarm clocks going off every five minutes, no rustling of clothes or dropping of shoes, no half-mumbled curses. For a moment, Sirius thought he was back in his flat in London, wasting away his summer working double shifts at the shady pub downstairs.

Then he noticed the curtains pulled around his bed. There was nothing of the sort in his run-down summer flat. Hell, he didn't even have a bed, really, just an old mattress James had given him laid out on the floor. And then he realized his face felt funny, numb, as though it had been squished. Lifting his head, he realized he'd fallen asleep, and he'd done it on top of a book; on top of Peter's divination text, in fact.

Shit. Shit, shit, and shit again. Springing up, Sirius tore open the curtains and looked at the clock on the wall. 9:57. Three minutes until his transfiguration exam. Shit.

He probably set some sort of record that morning; fastest person out of bed without magical aid or some such thing like that. Still, it wasn't enough, and he knew it as he raced down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room with one minute to get to the transfiguration classroom.

The Gryffindor tower was just as empty as the dorm had been. Sirius paused just before the portal hole, realizing he'd forgotten his wand in his haste. He had to go back and get it; even if he made it to the test in time, he couldn't pass transfiguration without his wand.

He raced back up the stairs two at a time, barely slowing to open the door to the seventh years' room and grabbed his wand off his trunk shelf. He snuck a quick glance at the clock and froze. He had fifteen seconds. Fifteen seconds to make it down six flights of stairs, providing those stairs stayed where there were supposed to, and then across the courtyard and through the east wing. It was impossible. He could kiss his chance at an Auror's career goodbye now.

Unless…

It took him only a fraction of a second to make the decision. It was risky if he were to be caught, but his dreams would be over if he didn't even try. With a silent prayer to whatever higher power looked after fools of wizard boys, Sirius gripped his wand tightly, closed his eyes, and whispered the word.

"Apparate."

Nothing happened. No strange feelings, no sense of movement. Which was infinitely better than the feeling of being ripped in half, which Sirius was pretty sure should have been his fate. He'd kind of only glanced over an apparating instruction guide once or twice, not yet old enough to take the test officially.

Since it seemed imminent death wasn't in the stars, Sirius dared to open his eyes. He was more than a little surprised to find himself in front of the transfiguration classroom. It had worked! He glanced around quickly. Evidently luck was with him; the hallway was free of last-minute study-crammers hurrying to their rooms. The bell began to ring as he stood there, calling the start of the test. With a sigh, Sirius opened the door to the classroom and walked inside, ignoring the small voice in the back of his head that said there was no way he could get away with using such advanced magic in Hogwarts undetected.

He was Sirius Black, after all, Marauder extraordinaire. And Marauders could do anything.

TBC…

* * *

A/N: Um…wow. It's been a year. Sorry. Really, really sorry. What can I say—I'm a lazy bum. And this is a short chapter too…

Chapter 5 is in the works, and I can promise it will be posted before 2006. No, really, I'm serious.

Thanks to those who reviewed, and a special thanks toYamineko Byousaifor reminding me how much I love this story and how much I really do want to finish it someday.


	5. Moving On

C**hapter 5**

**Moving On**

_Never give up. Don't worry. It'll all work out in the end._

_That's what I would've said thirteen years ago. It was kind of my life philosophy. Funny that I'm listening to it now to win a card game. Even funnier that the birdbrain in the corner is giving me strange looks for talking to myself._

_How the mighty have fallen, right James?

* * *

_

As it turned out, all of Sirius' worrying had been in vain. On graduation day he sat three seats back, behind James and then Remus, his Hogwarts robes rimmed with the scarlet ribbon of superior achievement on seven or more NEWTs, and no one seemed the wiser to the fact that he had used illegal magic to get them.

The best part of the entire event was that Snape sat behind him, his robe edged with the silver of only six NEWTs. Well, that and the unexplained transmogrification of the microphone into a belching blowfrog during Dainspore's commencement address. Really, Dainspore shouldn't have looked so surprised. The prat had it coming, after all.

The after party in Hogsmede was a blur of mead and laughing and music. Sirius vaguely remembered a mistletoe, if only for the fact that it seemed strangely out of season and so he'd pulled Annie Braxton under it and kissed her right soundly on the lips, and then been pushed under it together with Peter and had smooched the blushing boy wetly on the cheek. There was a wild spin across the dance floor with a brown-haired Ravenclaw whose name was either Nancy or Nelly, bumping into laughing couples and stepping on feet all over the place before they broke apart, her hand lingering on his a few moments longer than necessary. He wanted to follow her as she slipped out the door into the night, but he was grabbed by James and swung into a circle of Gryffindor boys and girls and soon forgot about her.

"Where's Peter?" he yelled above the noise after some time had passed.

James pointed behind Sirius, and the taller boy worked his way around the circle until he could peer into the dark corner. Peter stood stiff against a wall, his face bright red with the reflection of the disco lights flashing on the ceiling as a pretty, plump little Hufflepuff girl sidled up against him and stroked his cheek.

"Whoohoo Peter!" Sirius cheered, and found out it wasn't only the lights making his friend's face so red.

Things got even hazier after that. Peter disappeared for awhile, and then James and Lily, and Sirius found himself alone with Remus, slinging an arm over the other's shoulders partially in friendship, partially to help him keep his feet. Remus bore it quite patiently, nodding at all the right times and really only interrupting Sirius' monologues on their friendship when something especially incriminating was about to come out.

"Really, though, there washn't any ri-reason for them to think that we were in on it. Sheriously, the mrhphhmrph…bloody hell Remus you don't have to smother me…anyway, that was more our style. And you. Why didn't you tell us earlier you were a mshrphphhh…" Sirius glared when Remus didn't move his hand, though the effect was slightly hampered by the fact he couldn't quite see straight and was looking more at Remus' left shoulder than his face.

"Sirius," Remus began, in his serious tone. "Do you remember that little discussion we had 5th year about when to stop talking? Because now would be a really, really good time to do just that."

Sirius probably answered Remus. He figured he had, though the evening went more or less black after that. But if there was one thing Sirius could be certain about it was the fact that he had a smart mouth and knew when to use it, so he could be sure he made some witty, snarky comment as soon as his mouth was free.

He'd never know what it was, though, as the next thing he remembered was waking up in his bed in Gryffindor Tower not sure which end of his body needed the john more. A rumbling in his stomach answered that question and he darted out of bed and towards the bathroom. Business finished, he stumbled back to his bed, head in his hands and squinting against the early morning light glaring through the windows. A quick glance around the room showed his friends present and accounted for, at least the ones he thought would be there. Loud snores came from Peter's bed, and Remus' robe was folded in the extremely pedantic way that showed he'd been more than a little drunk when he'd gone to sleep, but the curtains around James' bed were pushed back and the Marauder himself was conspicuously absent. Sirius grinned a knowing grin before flopping back onto his own bed with a groan, not bothering to pull the curtains.

The room was brighter but the angle of the sun less blinding the next time he woke. Remus' robe was gone, though Peter was still sawing logs. By now, Sirius' head was pounding and he would've sworn to never drink again if he hadn't known it would be a lie.

Surprisingly, it only took a bit of effort for Sirius to drag himself out of bed and down to the breakfast table. Of course, there was the mandatory brushing of his teeth, since his mouth felt and tasted like a twelve-year old carpet had flown into his mouth. That finished, he went in search of clothing. He found his robes crumpled in a heap at the end of the bed and one sniff told him he'd be eating alone if he wore it down to breakfast. Instead, he slipped into a torn, battered pair of jeans, pulled a green ski sweater over his head and nicked James' soft slippers out from under his bed since he wouldn't be needing them anyway this morning.

There were more than a few students gathered in the Gryffindor common room, and they all shouted greetings and a few of the braver fifth and sixth years slapped him on the back as he passed them by on his way to the portrait hole. He thought he bore it all rather stoically, only snapping at the more enthusiastic congratulators, considering his head felt as though it were made of glass.

The halls were mostly empty. A few ragged looking Hufflepuffs dragging themselves back to their quarters nodded to him as they passed under a portrait of Merius Maggot slaying an orc. A few minutes later a group of giggling Ravenclaw girls passed by him, and he vaguely remembered one of them from amid the whirl of drink and music from the night before.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, with the marauders split up and many of the students either already finished eating and having left to pack, or too hung over to manage a coherent sentence. Sirius counted himself among the latter and delved with relish into a greasy pile of eggs and ham, grateful for once that he could sit next to a quiet, sleepy-eyed fifth year with a nod and eat his breakfast in silence. Then, it was back to Gryffindor Tower, where Peter still had not moved from his bed, and a quick pack.

At noon, Sirius took it upon himself to wake Peter by means of a Correpto Repo spell that made Peter spring up in bed, scratching at his shirt and yelling "get them off, get them off" frantically. He gave Sirius a rather vicious look, especially good considering it came from Peter and Peter, as a fact, was far too baby-faced to pull off a successful glare.

Sirius just grinned unrepentantly. "Sorry, mate, but it's twelve o'clock and check out is at two. Don't want the house-elves making off with your socks, do you?"

Peter's glare didn't exactly lessen, though he did drag himself out of bed in a hurry and began tossing things in his trunk. They worked in silence for awhile, Sirius trying to ignore his aching head and shoving things haphazardly into his own trunk while Peter searched around the room for his own things. It was really quite interesting what managed to end up where over the course of the school year. Sirius watched with interest once he had finished his own packing as Peter fetched his crystal ball out from under James' bed and, after a simple searching charm, managed to balance precariously on a chair and drag his mittens down from the top of the window sill. Sirius briefly wondered how they had managed to get up there, and almost asked Peter that very question until he remembered that James and himself had snuck them up there in retaliation for something or other. At least he thought it was likely in retaliation for something. Either way, he decided it best not to bring up the question of how they had gotten there in the first place.

Remus returned about half past noon and Sirius moved from his spot on the bed to help him pack. He was back in place after a few moments, however, as Remus complained he was doing more harm than good.

"Ungrateful prat," Sirius muttered. "See if I offer to help you again."

"If you'd just learn to actually fold clothes…" Remus said, sounding rather exasperated. Sirius flinched. He'd forgotten about werewolf senses, and hadn't meant for the other to hear.

"Why don't you help Peter instead?" Remus asked. "I think he's having trouble finding his scarf." There was an accusatory note in his voice that said he knew exactly why Peter's scarf was lost and who had lost it.

"Fine, fine," Sirus agreed, waving his hand dismissively. "Peter, why don't you check the girls' dorm?"

Peter looked at Sirius suspiciously. "But I've never been in the girl's dorm," he said.

Sirius shrugged. "Well, things have a way of making their way to odd places around here. I think you'd be used to it by now. You know, the other day I found my wand had disappeared into the Ravenclaw prefects' baths and when I went to go get it Marianne was—"

"Just shut it, will you?" Peter barked, stalking past Sirius towards the door. "Really, you're not ten years old anymore." He shut the door with a bang and the remaining Marauders could hear him stomping down the stairs.

"You know," Sirius said after a moment. "I don't think he liked my help."

Remus snorted. "Can't really blame him, since he wouldn't need help in the first place if it weren't for you." Remus fetched his own scarf from the top dresser drawer and put it in his trunk.

Sirius moved over to Remus' bed again and, wonder of wonders, actually began to fold the few clothes still piled on the bed. "That one wasn't me, Moony. James just happened to tell me about it."

Remus sighed and took his slightly battered, but now neatly folded, coat from Sirius with a nod of thanks.

"What is it, then, Moony?" There was a bit of an edge to Sirius' voice.

Remus realized with a start he must have been frowning. It wasn't like Sirius to ask insightful, if rather abrupt, questions. It wasn't like Sirius to notice anything at all about other people unless it was some lewd comment about various body parts. Remus sighed again, not wanting to answer his friend's question. Sirius could be…touchy…on certain subjects, and Remus had a feeling what he was thinking could be one of them.

"Nothing, really," he began, then changed his mind. It was the end of the year, after all. The end of seventh year, in fact, and if Sirius wanted to blow up and stay mad at him he wouldn't have to deal with the consequences. "It's just, sometimes, don't you think you and James are a little hard on Peter? I mean, you only barely treat him better than you treat Snape."

Once again, Sirius managed to surprise Remus. Rather than blowing up into a defensive rage, Sirius merely snorted and waved a hand dismissively. "Bollocks, Remus. Of course we treat him better than we treat Snape. He's our _friend_! And he knows it's all in good fun. At least, most of the time he does."

"He seemed rather pissed just now," Remus pointed out.

"That's because he doesn't know James hid his scarf for his own good," Sirius replied smugly.

"Just how is making him sneak into the girls' dorm and die of embarrassment for his own good?" Remus asked skeptically. "He's not you or James, Sirius. He's got this thing called shame. You might try it sometime."

"Aha!" Sirius exclaimed, as if Remus had just stumbled upon some startling truth. "That's just it! James explained it to me, you see. Peter's got a thing for Wynne, you know that cute dark haired sixth year? And he _told_ James one night, so James snuck the scarf up there into her dresser. Then when Peter goes up, stuttering in embarrassment and blushing bright red asking if anyone's seen his scarf, she'll be the one to give it to him. And then he can go on about how horrible his friends are and how they play all these mean tricks on him and she'll feel poorly for him so she'll give him a hug and maybe a kiss on the cheek and tell him that she'll be his friend whenever we aren't. And I'm sure you know how it goes from there."

"Whatever you say," Remus said, not wanting to deal with the inevitable fuss that would occur if he pointed out just how ridiculous that plan sounded. "Just, maybe you should explain that plan to Peter once he gets back. That is, assuming the girls haven't pummeled him to death for coming into their dorm. And assuming he actually makes it over the stairs." Remus hid a grin by busily rearranging the last of his belongings to fit into the trunk as Sirius' face dropped at his worlds. Apparently Sirius had forgotten about the stairs when agreeing with James on what a great plan it was.

As it was, Peter returned to the boy's dorm half an hour later with a few new bruises and a big grin plastered on his face. Sirius nudged Remus not-so-subtly in the ribs a few times until Remus gave in with a sigh and asked Peter what he was so happy about.

"Wynne…" Peter sighed dreamily, a faint blush creeping up on his cheeks.

"So you got your scarf back then, did you?" Sirius said, slinging an arm over Peter's soldiers.

"No thanks to you," Peter retorted, apparently remembering he was mad at the other boy. He stepped away with a huff and turned to pack his scarf into his already overstuffed trunk.

"Hey," Sirius protested. "You got to talk to Wynne, didn't you. Besides, it was James' idea. He just told me about it after."

Peter just shot Sirius a pointed glare that made it quite clear that, no matter its effects on his love life, Peter was not amused by his friends' little prank and that they were in no way forgiven.

Sirius just shrugged and went downstairs, hoping to find better company, only to find the common room abandoned. He sat in front of the fire for awhile, taking a moment to enjoy being a Gryffindor, sitting in the Gryffindor tower, for the last time. A moment of melancholy almost washed over him. There were so many hidden passages left to explore, so many pranks left to play. But then Sirius thought about how there was a whole world of hidden passages and pranks waiting for him outside the Hogwarts walls and the melancholy transformed itself into a small pang of nostalgia.

Nostalgia for everything except the homework, that is.

Remus came down then and they began a game of exploding snap. James entered through the portal hole about half way through the game, looking slightly dazed with a huge smile splitting his face. He endured Remus' and Sirius' good-natured ribbing with hardly a word in reply, then headed up to the boys' tower to pack his own trunk, ignoring the warning they shouted after him about Peter's mood.

Remus and Sirius went back to their game, snickering slightly when a few thumps, followed by James' pained voice, floated down the stairs. Peter could really be mean when he wanted.

A few hours later they found themselves, minus Remus, fighting for a cabin in the Hogwarts Express. Remus was sitting with the other Prefects up front, going over monitor duty for the ride back to London, but had promised he would meet up with them later. Unfortunately, a group of sixth years had decided that the era of the Marauders was over and had taken up residence in the cabin that had, undisputedly for three years, belonged by common knowledge to James, Peter, Remus, and Sirius.

Remus had shown up just as things began to get heated and ever so politely reminded the uppity sixth years that he was officially a prefect until the train arrived at King's Crossing. And as such, he could take away as many points as necessary until the boys moved. Not to mention, it didn't matter to him which house won the Cup next year, since he would no longer be a Hogwarts student.

With many grumbles and complaints and death-glares, the sixth years gave up the cabin. Sirius smiled; it was nice to know you were still the boss, even if only for a few more hours. The ride passed quickly, and before they knew it, they were saying their (almost) tearful goodbyes at Platform 9 ¾, promising they would owl and visit as soon as possible.

After Peter and Remus had left with their parents, Sirius and James stood facing each other. Mr. and Mrs. Potter waited by the exit, James' luggage in hand.

"Well," Sirius finally said, to break the silence. "This is it, I suppose."

"Yeah," James agreed, looking slightly uncomfortable. "I guess."

"Well, take care then, mate." Sirius gave what he hoped was something approaching his normal shit-eating grin, though he was fairly certain it was nothing close. It was hard to be carefree when there was a cannonball in the pit of your stomach and you wanted nothing more than to grab onto your best friend and never let go.

"You too." James nodded, turning around stiffly.

Sirius picked up his trunk as James began to walk to where his parents waited. He tried to look busy shifting through his trunk's contents to make sure nothing was missing, not wanting to dog James' heels' on the way out.

James turned around half way to the exit. 'You know, Sirius, you can always…"

"Thanks," Sirius said, cutting him off. "But really, I can't." He turned to Mr. and Mrs. Potter. "You've been great the last two years. I can't thank you enough for taking me in. But I've got to do this on my own now."

Mr. and Mrs. Potter both nodded at his words, an expression Sirius couldn't identify on their faces.

Sirius was rather startled to feel arms wrap around him from behind. He stiffened for a moment, then realized it was only James.

"If you need anything, anything at all…" James spoke quietly, as though afraid his parents would hear.

Sirius reached up and squeezed James' arm. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. I've got a place to stay, a job. I'm all set."

"Right, then." James let him go and stepped away. He seemed almost embarrassed by his show of affection. "Well, see you, then."

"You'll owl me as soon as you hear from the Auror Academy, right?" Sirius asked.

"Of course! Same with you."

"Yeah," Sirius agreed, giving a lazy wave with his free hand. "See you then."

"Later." James returned the wave as he stepped through the portal to King's Crossing with his parents, leaving Sirius alone with his thoughts. It only took him a few moments to realize those thoughts weren't very good company. With a sigh he shouldered his trunk and headed out to the curb to hail a cab.

* * *

The first summer Sirius lived in a place without air conditioning would, of course, be the hottest bloody summer on record. Not two weeks after he'd arranged a job at The Cursing Pig, complete with room and board and enough cash to scrape together a meager savings, London had begun to boil under an unrelentless sun. According to the newspapers people were dropping dead from heat exhaustion left and right, and Sirius wouldn't be surprised if he were next.

Still, there were bills to pay and stomachs to feed. Somachs, because as Mrs. Potter had said, Sirius had to have more than one to fit all the food he managed to consume. Finances in mind, Sirius did his best to keep the grumbling to the minimum and customer satisfaction to the maximum. The tips were all his, after all.

Not that the crowd at the Cursing Pig was a generally high-tipping sort. It was more a hole-in-the-wall than the honest-to-goodness English pub the owner Will tried to make it out to be. A few hanging bulbs on chains, a lop-sided pool table, three mismatched booths, and the bar itself were all the unusual components that made up the Cursing Pig. Fitting twenty people in the place would have been a challenge. Sirius had a strong suspicion Will made more money renting out the upstairs apartments on an hourly basis than he made from the bar itself.

From the outset, the only good thing about bartending for Will was the free room above the bar. By the end of the first week of the heat wave, even that prop had lost its appeal and Sirius began to count the weeks until he could afford something better. Something with air conditioning. Or at least with windows that opened onto something other than a deadly cloud of smog. By the second week of the heat wave, he had fixed himself a routine just to make it through the day alive.

Out of bed at five in the afternoon, a cold shower under the questionably yellow water (make sure to not swallow any), then drag himself downstairs to work where he popped a constant supply of slightly-less questionable ice cubes as the hours passed. Trudge back upstairs at six am, and collapse naked on the bare mattress to sleep his way through the hottest part of the day. At times it got to the point that if he could have crawled out of his own skin to be any cooler, he would have done so gratefully.

He thought his luck was turning when he discovered an ancient fan stashed behind a pile of old _Daily Teleposts _and sacrificed more than a little bit of skin off his hands to dig it out and haul it up the stairs. Only to short out the entire building as soon as he plugged the thing in. Will hadn't been happy about that, and Sirius had found himself scrubbing the toilets for the next week and a half.

The welcome break in this monotony came late one Tuesday morning. Sirius was lying face down on his mattress as usual, windows wide open in an attempt to get _some _sort of air despite the stench of factory fumes and car exhaust that filled the apartment. When the scratching started, he groaned a bit and waved vaguely in the direction of the window, hoping the post owl could read his mind and would just leave his mail on the floor until it was cool enough that Sirius could work up the energy to move. The scratching just got more frantic, however, and Sirius cursed the fact that the post office seemed to have trained their owls with _manners_, of all things, even as he hauled himself up off the bed.

A dusty brown owl was flapping impatiently just outside the open window. There were some claw marks in the flaking paint on the windowsill where the owl had been scratching to get his attention and Sirius groaned. Will would nail him with that when it came to his cleaning deposit.

The bird lit off as soon as Sirius grabbed the two letters it was delivering out of its claws, feathers ruffled in agitation. From the way it shook its head in what Sirius could only guess was the owl version of a sneeze, he guessed the factory smoke was getting to it. Too bad his own animagus form wasn't an owl; he'd be more than willing to work for mice if it meant he didn't have to constantly breathe this poison.

He glanced down at the letters in his hand and stopped. One was from James, Sirius' name and address hastily scrawled in his best friend's messy handwriting. The other…

The other bore the official seal of the Auror training academy. It had finally come. And that meant the letter from James contained the other boy's answer.

Sirius sat for a few moments trying to decide which to open first. If James hadn't gotten in, Sirius didn't care one way or another about his own reply. It was their dream, together, to be the best Auror team the wizarding world had ever seen. Sirius didn't want to work with anyone else.

At last, Sirius tore open the envelope from the Auror academy. There was only one sheet of paper inside, printed in the same neat, infuriatingly unrevealing handwriting.

"Dear Mr. Black,

As you well know, the Auror's Academy is a rigorous training course designed to prepare cadets for the very real mental and physical challenges that face the defenders of Wizarding Law and Order on a daily basis."

Sirius scanned nearly a full page of print praising the honor and history of the academy and the Aurors it produced. Until…aha!

"In light of your academic and athletic achievements throughout the course of your Hogwarts career, the Auror Academy is pleased to offer you a place in the Academy class of 1978-79."

"Yes!" Sirius howled, jumping into the air and doing a little victory dance despite the heat until Will started pounding on the wall for him to shut it.

Sirius reached for James' letter next, barely able to breathe through the butterflies in his stomach. James letter was thankfully simple. Sirius didn't think he could have stood another page-long dissertation.

"Hey, mate!

I'm in. How bout you? Owl me.

GeneralPotter"

Sirius grinned happily, flopping back on the bed, ideas already swirling in his head. They were in. They'd both made it. And now, nothing could stop them.

* * *

The cards are moving easily. I smile to myself, moving a black five to a red six and uncovering an ace. On a roll, with no end in sight. This muggle game isn't so hard after all.

* * *

A/N: Part 1, finally finished! This was originally all supposed to be one chapter. Hm…didn't work out like that, did it? I may put it all into one chapter eventually. The little monologues at the beginning of ch. 1 and the end of this chapter are the _actual_ story. The rest is just filler (all 12,000 words of it!). Once I move onto part two, I'll see how I feel about adding in all the little monologues, like I did with part 1.

Thanks to Yamineko Byousai for reviewing!

Up next: Auror training. What were James and Sirius thinking?


End file.
